Ramblings
by Cynical Chaos
Summary: The last entry in Shinji's journal.
1. Ramblings

Ramblings

by Cynical Chaos

Disclaimer: I don't own or profit in any way, shape or form from this fic.

The thoughts and emotions represented in this fiction are not those of the original characters.

Neon Genesis Evagelion is owned by Gainax.

_The day was boring. To the fiery red head, being bored was as worse a fate as being bested, in any way, shape or form by Shinji. She _needed_ something to do. Or she would go insane, and spend three hours waiting for Shinji to get home before she could finally have something to do. And since waiting would be as boring as doing nothing, Asuka dragged herself off the floor, ignored the pounding in her head, and explored the pitifully small condo that she, Misato and Shinji called home. Her room was normal - that is_ _she had yet to fully unpack, so boxes were neatly stacked in a out-of-the-way corner. Misato's room... she didn't even want to think about attempting to even enter there. Which left... Shinji's room. Oh well. She might as well. So she did. and was moderately surprised to see that it was... neat. As-of-yet unpacked boxes in a corner, bed neatly made, desk orderly. Save for a book which was open. It looked to be, no, _was_ diary. Or journal. Or whatever guys called them. She glanced at the newest entry. And she was shocked at what she found. So she read on. This is what she read._

So what are we? What am I? _Who_ am I? Big questions, asked by everyone at one point or another, all with no answers readily in sight. I once thought that I could lock it all away, just exist; that existence would somehow be enough. And I was wrong. I was wrong. There were several people, all dear to me who showed me that, well, that _survival wouldn't be enough._ Sure my heart pumps and my brain thinks a lot more than I'd like it to; sure I can drag my body around, but am I really alive, really doing something just by living? No, I'm not. No, I'm not. I'm just sitting around with a blank dull look on my face and watching the stream flow, while everyone around me is busy making the catch of the day.

But is it enough to _experience_ life? Again, no for an answer. Watching the days pass is one evil, and thrusting one's self, sometimes literally, into life's pleasures is the greater. Because, again,_ nothing ever happens._ So what if you're drunk. So what if you've pumped yourself full of hallucinogens and narcotics. _So fucking what if you've got the world's biggest prick?_ Does it really matter? No it does not. It cannot. The _joy de vivre_ can't sustain a man anymore than just breathing will. Or just drinking water. Or just eating food. In one way or another, the lugs will stop breathing, the glass will shatter, the blood veins will become clogged with excess fats. And then the final... What? Adventure? End? Birth? Does it matter? The End will come to all creatures and slowly,

ever

so

slowly

life gives it's last gasp, a brief spasm, and then the rest is just silence. Silence and an never ending pall of gray.

So if life's loves and feasts and parties aren't enough and sideline watching isn't enough, _then what is?_ How do we live? Better yet, how is life defined? Is it a word that can be sought out in the dictionary? No, that isn't right, because then life is the property or quality that distinguishes living organisms from dead organisms and inanimate matter, manifested in functions such as metabolism, growth, reproduction, and response to stimuli or adaptation to the environment originating from within the organism. And that isn't enough. Is life this then? The physical, mental, and spiritual experiences that constitute existence? Perhaps.

_BUT THAT STILL ISN"T ENOUGH_


	2. Ruminations

Ruminations

by Cynical Chaos

This is dedicated to The Big W who encouraged me to write this second chapter even though I had no intention to do so.

My Disclaimer: I had no intention to write this and I do so only because I can't give up on a challenge.

Standard Disclaimer: Same as last chapter. I do not own NGE. The thoughts, emotions and love triangles that may occur are not those of the creators.

_Asuka frowned and sat back. She hadn't expected something like this from someone she considered to be a weak willed, perennially depressed kid who spent most of his time whining about the obvious truths of the world. Well, maybe she expected him to write about his complaints towards life, but it was a shock for her to discover this amount of depth._

_Her fingers twitched, and she watched as they picked up a pencil. Yes, she was going to answer, to write something down. Anything. Shinji's words had challenged her and she never backed down from a challenge. So what if she didn't know the kanji very well? She sure as hell wasn't going to write in German. That would be to obvious. Her pencil met the paper. She wrote._

So what if it isn't enough? Who cares? Is there anyone who actually sits down and thinks about the whys and wherefores of human existence? Does anyone really care about destiny? No. That's just the simple answer. Cause, really, everyone's so busy running around working and studying and worrying about dinner and where the next paycheck will come from to care about their _destiny_. For them, they see dreamers and thinkers as unrealistic. They say,_ "Look at him. Looking at the stars and totally unworried about the world. What, is he high or something? I don't have time to talk to him! It's a waste of time!"_ Why do you care whether it's enough to survive? Because that's what everyone does. They survive day after boring day. Some have more exciting jobs. Some don't. All have the capacity, even if they lack the will, to succeed. to prosper.

And living it up? What's wrong with that? Do you even know why people get drunk or high or consume whatever their particular poison happens to be? To forget. To be at peace even for a little while. So what if it"ll kill them? That's a long way off and besides, it feels _soooo _good.

No one worries about the definition of life, cause they're all to busy living it and finding out for themselves. The best thing to do is stop worrying and start living. Because if all you do is worry, then you'll just wither away. So find something to focus on. A job. A girlfriend. Schoolwork even. Just find something that will give you a reason to exist. Besides, if people you cared for showed you that 'just surviving' wasn't enough, that don't you think that you'll upset them by not doing something about your life? By just sitting around and complaining? So go do something. It doesn't have to be big or flashy. Just something that you want to do. Something that appeals to you. And don't forget to have fun with it.

_Asuka smiled. Insight to Shinji, something that took her mind off her cold and a little fun. It would be fun to see Shinji's face. She closed the book and left Shinji's room, went to her's and laid down, smiling._

_The door to the condo opened three hours later and Shinji's figure appeared, laden with bags of groceries. He set them down and looked around. Nobody around. He wondered where Asuka was. She should have been around being sick. Maybe she was asleep in her room. And if that was the case, then he wouldn't have to listen to her complaining about being sick or about how long it was taking him to make dinner. He went into his room intending to make another entry into his journal. He stopped. There was something wrong with his room. The journal was shut. He had left it open the night before. He opened it and started. Someone had written something in his diary, just after last night's entry. He sat down and he read._


	3. Digressions

Digressions

by Cynical Chaos

My disclaimer : Once again, I write this chapter under protest. I didn't think that it would be this popular. As for a forth chapter, don't get your expectations too high. Also, once again this chapter is dedicated to The Big W, whose support I value greatly. After all, if it weren't for him, the second and third chapters of this fic wouldn't exist. And that probably means that I need to stop reading his reviews.

Standard disclaimer: The characters are not owned by me, nor do I profit off of them. The thoughts expressed in this fic are my own.

_Shinji was certain that the mysterious author of the short, yet angry reply to his latest and, he had to admit, most depressing journal entry was Asuka. For one thing, the writing was horrid, nearly impossible to read. For another, she hadn't buggged, pestered, teased or screamed strange phrases in German at him. She hadn't done so since the night he had discovered the entry and that had been three days ago. Of course she had slept for most of the day, but he was certain that she was the author. At dinner time, she had kept sneaking strange looks at him when she thought that he wasn't looking. Looks of.... admiration? Confusion? He wasn't sure what her thoughts were about him. Usually he didn't care, just as long as she wasn't trying to use him as a punching bag or scapegoat. But still... it was strange. That wasn't the only odd thing she did. Nor was it the only situation where she had acted strange around him. Yesterday at school, he had walked around a corner while heading to his locker when he nearly rammed into her and the class rep, who had been talking to her. Instead of lambasting him for hitting her, she had pulled him up and pushed him away. Without saying anything. So today, with Asuka once again sick, he decided to perform a simple test. He would make an entry into his journal and see is there was a written response. If there was, well, he'd burn that bridge when he came to it. Luckily Asuka wouldn't pitch him over the bridge for tricking her. He shuddered. Death by cliche. He opened his notebook and sat at his desk. Without a willing thought, his hand picked up his pencil and started to write._

The problem with depression is that it is never around when it's really needed. Like when you're at a funeral. You aren't depressed. Just sad. And really, you should be depressed. Because that's all that life boils down to, isn't it? Some nice words from people who didn't truly know you, a wooden box, and a six foot hole. Death is just as pointless as life is, if all either boil down to is a bunch of words, a container and a hole. But why am I even writing about death, depression and the futility of life? Why not just write? This is my journal. I'm supposed to write about my life. Or what occurs in it. But what to write about? If this journal, this notebook, carries everything about my life in it, then my life is pitifully empty. All there is to it is training with the Eva units, struggling through school, fighting with Asuka and trying to get my father's approval. If that's all there is, why not just die? Or go somewhere else. Because really, the only use I have here, in Tokyo-3 is to pilot the Eva and to fight the Angels. But what if I die? In the line of action if nowhere else? What will happen? Will there be people to cry for me, to miss me? I can only believe that there will be. Misato for certain. She is like the big sister that I never had. Always teasing me, telling me to buck up and not be so gloomy. My father, perhaps. But his motivation would only be duty. One of his pilots had died so his obligation would be to express grief or sorrow. At the loss of the pilot if nothing else. Rei? She'd go with my father of course. She'd be there because my father would be there. Asuka? I doubt that she'd shed any tears over me. Especially if Kaji is present. She only pays attention to me when I mess up and she has to take part of the blame or when I actually get some thing right. And what about Kaji? He's a total enigma. But I suppose that's why Misato and Asuka like him. The whole air of mystery thing that's supposed to drive girls wild. Would there be anyone else? Anyone who would truly miss me? Not because I'm 'family', or a 'valued pilot,' but because they really knew me and shed tears over that loss? Shed tears over the end of or relationship? I can't say that there'd be anyone. No one. And somehow, that makes sense. And yet I feel dread in my heart. My mind says that no one will miss me or that is there is someone, that their feelings are selfish. My mind says all that, and my heart wishes otherwise. But I can't change reality, so why bother dwelling on it?

_Shinji looked at what he had written. He was surprised. He had intended it to be a sort of refutation to what _

(asuka)

_the author had written. Instead he had this. And if what_

(asuka's)

_the author's reply was a guide to go by, then_

(she)

_would jump all over this. Probably write six pages worth. Shini sighed, shut the book, turned his desk light off and got ready for bed. His last thought before he entered the Sandman's realm was_

I wonder what her face will look like when she reads this?

_The day was full. Full of school, training, commands, mistakes and homework. But Shinji, tired as he was, was filled with a sort of insane dreadful excitement at what might be in his journal. He opened the door to the condo and headed straight for his room. But when he opened it, he didn't see an empty room with his journal open or closed. What, or rather who, he saw was Asuka. An irritated, close-to-crying Asuka. She walked straight up to him and punched him hard on the jaw, then swept out of the room. Shinji, pain making his head spin sat on the floor and wondered. Wondered why she had said what she said. She had called him an idiot. Since his head was starting to clear, he stood up, albeit slowly, and lurched his way to his desk. Sure enough, his journal was closed,_ _just like he had expected. He turned to the page he had written the night before. There was nothing. Frowning, he turned to the next page. Then he sat down. For the second time in the same day, he was stunned. The reply was simple._

If you die, I'll care!!


	4. Past Thoughts

**Past Thoughts**

by Cynical Chaos

**Standard Disclaimer**: This is dedicated to Father Malvado who has a nasty habit of making me think. I started this as a way for me to vent my emotions through Shinji. I'm suprised at how much depth that we've achieved together. That's what happens when one loses control of his characters I suppose.

**Disclaimer**: I don't own Shinji, Asuka, or Neon Genesis Evagelion.

_Shinji stepped into his old room and grabbed an armful of boxes. He had bought a place of his own and still had to move the last of the boxes into it. He grinned to himself. The move, of course, had been promted by Misato's louder than necessary exclamation that with her own room near the one that Asuka and he shared_,_ that she hadn't gotten any decent amount of sleep since Asuka and he had started sleeping in the same room together. She demanded that we either get a place to ourselves our stop all night time activities. The latter, of course, had been stated with a wide, lecherous grin. As Shinji thought about that incident a bit more, his smile grew. His train of thought had drifted to Asuka's retort. "Night time activities? And what about you? I've seen you sneak out when you thought that everyone else was asleep!" Her mouth, Shinji remembered, had formed a lecherous grin of its own. "So how's Mister Kaji?" After that, and several quick negotiations on Shiniji's part, they had, collectively, agreed to get a new place for Asuka and Shinji. "With padded walls!" That had been Misato's parting comment. The box slipped from his grip, slamming onto the floor and his foot. Stifling a curse, he bent to pick up the box. As he did so, his old journal slipped out. Curiosity overwhelmed him and he opened it, looking through his past entries. He smiled at some, shook his head at others and, altogether, marveled at how drastically his life had changed since Asuka had stumbled over his musings. Out of a desire to relive his past days, and no small bit of mischief, he added what he decided would be the last chapter in this journal._

Change. The one thing that every man fears. Change. Everything changes and nothing is ever the same. Nothing. And by everything and nothing, I mean _everything and nothing_. Life. Seasons. Nature. Trains of thought and ways of life. After an adventure, no matter how small, you can't go back. Ever. You can't go back to the same thoughts, habits,_ the same life._

My name is Ikari Shinji. This is my journal and my way of getting out. Out of what, I have no idea. Responsibilities, or the thoughts that go with them. Maybe it's just my way of assuring myself that I exist. But I still feel better after writing down my thoughts or venting my emotions or just looking at what happened during my day.

Days. Everything that can happen, good or bad or life ending, can, and in my experience, does. I mean, my job, my life and the sole reason that I'm here in Tokyo-3 revolves around me saving the world by fighting the angels. Day after day. Always fighting for my life. But that's what I thought long ago, isn't it? I thought that all I fought for was my own existence in my father's eyes, if not my own. I came to Tokyo-3 thinking that my father wanted to renew our relationship, one that died long ago. So long ago, that it began, perhaps, when my mother died, more or less, at the hands of my father.

But, as I look back, I can see just how good my life has been since coming to Tokyo-3 and nearly dying at the hands of a psychotic driver named Misato, a huge monstrosity and the biggest robot I had ever and will ever see. I met Misato, my commanding officer, surrogate big sister, and would be street racer; Kaji who is always looking for the most beautiful of flowers; Asuka, now my girlfriend, who blows up occasionally at the smallest thing; Rei, distant, beautiful, but still my friend, and a host of others. So many people who love me and, if I may say so, look up to me. And if Asuka reads that last line, I'll end up on the coach learning what the true meaning of cold shoulder is. But it's true despite her vehement protests other wise. Why else would she have sought me out, after a fashion, and made her feelings, which she had, by her admission, hidden so well up till then?

Change. I've gone from a stubborn, willful, melancholy brat, to a "decent fighter." Friend, cohort, and, yes, even lover. So much change, but I don't fear it. I look forward to it, the good and the bad together.

_He put the journal down in the middle of the floor, where Asuka would most assuredly stumble over it. Perhaps she would put him on "the coach," but the risk was worth it. Just for a chance at the past... _

_But days move on._

_Fin_

_This is to my supporters, to those who actually thought that I was writing something that was more than 3 a.m. dribble._

Cynical Chaos


End file.
